Inconnu
by Silberner Wolf
Summary: AU. Begins that Halloween night and continues through Harry's Hogwarts years. I stink at summaries. ON HOLD
1. Prologue: The End

Disclaimer: I own only the plot. A few lines of dialogue are borrowed from TPoA, which was written by J.K. Rowling.

  
  


**Inconnu**

**By SilbernerWolf**

  
  
  
  


Hi! Welcome to my first story. Well, my first fanfic. It probably stinks, but please review!

~Silberner

  
  
  
  


**Part 1: Ein Neuer Anfang**

**Prologue: The End**

  
  
  
  


James Potter pushed his protesting wife toward the nursery. It was imperative that she and their son left quickly. He had sensed that something terrible was about to happen. The worst thing was that he knew exactly what.

"James, what--?" she asked, a bit of fear creeping into her voice as she twisted, trying to face him. He let go, not wanting to waste precious time arguing with her.

"He's coming," James said solemnly and as calmly as he could. She gasped. "Lily, you have to get Harry. . . get him out of here."

"No," she stammered, green eyes locking onto his brown ones. "No. . . ." she repeated. "How?"

"I don't know--"

He was cut off as the front door burst inward with a loud boom and flew off its hinges. Unnaturally cold air gushed through the doorway. "Take Harry, Lily, I'll hold him off." He hugged her tightly, and, for perhaps the last time, admired her beauty. Her red hair whipping about her face, her sparkling green eyes, her flushed cheeks, and her slender hands grasping his. He then urged her toward the door. "Go!"

Lily nodded mutely and rushed into the nursery, closing the door behind her.

James drew his wand and began to throw a barrage of curses at the silhouette that drew steadily nearer.

It continued toward him, heedless of the curses flying its way. It stopped only when it reached the gaping hole in the wall that used to house the front door.

He sent every curse he knew at it. They all swerved away without doing any harm to their target. Plaster rained down on his head as the spells instead hit the walls and ceiling.

Cold laughter rang from the hood of its cloak. It raised a wand of its own.

"_Avada Kedavra_," it said in a voice as cold as its laugh.

There was a flash of green light.

Everything slowed down.

Lily's face came to the front of his mind, overriding any other thoughts he had.

The light crept closer.

_I love you, Lily._

James was dead before he hit the floor.

@~'~,~

Lily stood just inside the door and watched her son for a moment. One year old Harry stared up at her from the floor, eyes wide and toys forgotten. He smiled.

She allowed herself to smile back, despite the circumstances. He looked so much like James. Except for the eyes. He had her eyes.

A cold laughter that froze her blood sounded outside, amid dozens of small explosions.

With a flash of green light that shone around the edges of the door and a heavy _thud_, there was near silence outside. A cloak swished and footsteps came toward the door.

She nearly panicked. James was dead. He had never had a chance.

Her husband was dead.

Her eyes stung and her vision blurred momentarily.

Dead.

_Lily, you have to get Harry. . . get him out of here._

She dashed toward Harry, who still watched her curiously, though he no longer smiled. She froze in the motion of picking him up as the door twisted free of its hinges.

It was him. She had feared a moment like this ever since she had been told that they were being hunted by him.

Without a thought, she put herself between her husband's murderer and her son.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she cried. There was only one way she could possibly save her son. She was as good as dead, but she could still protect him.

"Stand aside, you silly girl..." growled the cold voice from the doorway.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead!" She concentrated on her love for her son. If he killed her first, her son would be safe.

The same cold laughter from moments before filled the room. Mirthless and evil. Heartless. It would work. She would carry out the act perfectly.

There was another flash of green light. Lily Potter sank to the floor and joined her husband in death.

@~'~,~

Harry stared up at the stranger in the doorway. They turned their wand upon him.

They said something that he could not understand. Green light shot from the tip of the wand and enveloped him.

Pain shot through his head. It felt like his head would split in two. It seemed to last an eternity. _Pain._

Suddenly, the light returned to its originator--the man in the doorway. He staggered back several steps, then fell to his knees in agony.

Harry's cries were drowned out as a shriek cut through the still night. After a few seconds, however, the person in the back cloak disappeared. The house trembled to the point of crumbling as a surge of magic of unbelievable power bombarded it, branching out from the point where the cloaked man had stood.

Then, there was nothing.

Silence fell once more over the neighborhood, broken only by the sobs of the young boy in the ruin of the Potters' house.

The Boy Who Lived.

  
  
  
  
  
  


I'll admit that this prologue has little to do with the rest of the story (right now, at least), but I just wanted to put it there for the sake of…something. Chapter 1 should be up pretty soon. Next week, maybe?

Like it? Hate it? Please tell me!

  
  


~Silberner


	2. Chapter 1: From the Ruin

Disclaimer:  I own only the plot. The rest is J. K. Rowling's.

**_Inconnu _**

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**_By Silberner Wolf_**

One review! (thanks, Brett) Pressing on!

~Silberner

**_Part 1: Ein Neuer Anfang_**

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**_Chapter 1: From the Ruin_**

Sirius Black took his cloak off the hook as he walked out the door.  He tucked his wand into his belt and pulled the cloak over his robes. It had been a rather cold Halloween this year.  He stepped outside into the piercing wind of the very early morning.  The sun would not rise for a while.  He wrapped the cloak more tightly around himself.

His motorcycle waited patiently outside the door.  He mounted it and the engine roared to life with a tap of his wand.  He pulled back a silver lever, revved the engine, and rose smoothly from the pavement.  He ascended steeply until he was just below cloud level.  Wispy clouds swirled above him and the horizon became the deep purple of approaching dawn.

He had planned to check on Lily and James a bit later this morning, but he had awoken early and decided to check on Peter as well.

After nearly an hour of travel, during which the horizon became lavender, then pink, he reached his destination.  He landed and concealed the motorcycle behind an ample bush, then entered the hideout Peter was currently using.

"Peter?" he called into the darkened house.  There was no answer, just silence.  No signs of a struggle or anything.  He must have left willingly.  But why?  He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters were surely watching Peter as Sirius knew they were him, hoping to get a clue to the Potters' whereabouts.  Wait.  He staggered to a stop in the middle of the hallway and a horrified expression crossed his face.  The obvious answer hit him like a very solid brick wall.

Sirius cursed loudly and raced back to his motorcycle.  He ripped it roughly from the shrubbery and wheeled it onto the pavement, ignoring the twigs wedged in it and the leaves flapping with the motion of the bike.

If Lily and James had been found, it would be his fault.  He had suggested that filthy spy be their Secret-Keeper.

Yes, spy.  Peter had been the spy for You-Know-Who.  Not Remus.

He leapt onto the seat and gunned the engine.  The wheels squealed and the engine roared and groaned in protest as he rose unsteadily from the ground, the fear and rage coursing through him causing his hands to shake.  He gripped the handles so tightly that his knuckles turned white and he began to lose feeling in his already chilled fingers.

It was a clear morning and a sliver of sunlight now illuminated the sky.  He should have been careful to keep non-wizards from glimpsing him, but he did not care at the moment.  He was in a dead panic, all the while mentally kicking himself for his stupidity.  Why had he suspected Remus—because he was a werewolf?  Why had he not seen that Peter was the spy?

For the same reason that he had suggested him to be the Secret-Keeper.  Who would suspect such lowly, insignificant scum would be entrusted with such a task?

He could now see the neighborhood in which the Potters hid.  He broke into a cold sweat.

_No._

Smoke.  A thick, black, oily smoke was pouring from one of the houses—or what was left of it.  It was the Potters'. He was too late.

He landed hard, causing his bones to rattle and his teeth to come together painfully, and leapt off the motorbike before it ever had a chance to stop.  It skidded to a stop on its side on the sidewalk, wheels still spinning and engine whining.

Sirius sat heavily on the wall that encircled the smoldering remnants of the yard.  He was too late.  His eyes burned and he did something that he had not done in years.

He cried.

He rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands and sobbed.  His shoulders shook as he took shuddering breaths and his throat became raw with his ragged breathing.  Tears soaked the front of his robes.  His best friend, his godson, Lily—the only real family he had—were dead.

He did not know how long he was there, nor did he know when the sun rose.  He did not even notice when the Muggles began to leave their homes and go about their day, oblivious to the fact that there had been murders just down the street from them.  The house was still concealed, as was the mourning man just outside it.  

He looked up only when he heard the familiar thundering footsteps coming nearer.

It was Hagrid.  Dumbledore knew, then, that the Potters were dead.

Why did he send Hagrid, thought?  What of value could possibly be left after such an attack?

Hagrid did not notice him as he walked up to the ruin and began to sift through it carefully.  Sirius watched him as he lifted each piece of debris with a bit of interest, wondering what he was looking for, although he could not bring himself to announce his presence just yet.

After quite a while, Hagrid reached the most intact part of the house—the nursery.

He moved a large piece of something and seemed to find whatever it was he was searching for.  His face brightened and he lifted something from the rubble eagerly, but carefully.  Pulling a blanket from the inside of his coat, he wrapped it around the object of his search with great care.

Why would he do that?

Unless…

Could it be?

The bundle moved and he saw a small hand wriggle free of the blanket.  

Harry was alive.

His godson was alive.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled toward Hagrid, his eyes watering with relief.

Hagrid looked startled as he noticed the ragged Sirius Black coming toward him.  White and shaking, Sirius stopped in front of the large man.  Hagrid quickly overcame his surprise and put a comforting arm on Sirius's shoulder.

It was a long while before Sirius could bring himself to look up.  He still shook from shock, mingled with fury and sadness.

Sirius finally forced himself to be calm and stared up at his godson.  "Give Harry to me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him—"

Hagrid looked down at him sadly.  "I've got me orders from Dumbledore.  I'm ter take 'im to 'is aunt an' uncle's."

Sirius glanced over at his bike.  Hagrid's eyes followed his gaze.  "Take my motorbike.  I won't need it anymore," he said, carefully keeping his voice from shaking.

"All righ'," Hagrid studied him intensely.  "Take care o' yerself, Sirius."

Sirius nodded mutely and trudged down the street.  He disapparated when he turned the corner.  He had a job to do.

He was going to hunt down the murderous traitor.  The traitor that had killed his best friend and orphaned his godson.

Peter Pettigrew.

Please R/R!


	3. Chapter 2: Meetings in the Dark

Disclaimer:  I own only the plot. Dialogue is from HPSS.

**Inconnu**

**By Silberner Wolf**

AN:  Wow, two chapters in one night. I'm on a roll. Sorry the chapters are so short, but it should be a long story!  That makes up for chapter length…right?  Right? Right.

Silberner

**Part 1: Ein Neuer Anfang**

**Chapter 2: Meetings in the Dark**

After a very long day of searching, Sirius still had absolutely no idea where Peter was.  He felt that he should have started sooner.  Maybe then Peter would not have had a chance to disappear.

Around midday, he had taken a break and decided to look up this aunt and uncle Hagrid had mentioned.  He was startled to find that they were both Muggles and had a son as well—a Muggle—who was about the same age as Harry.  Why was Dumbledore going to leave Harry with Muggles?  A good wizarding family was what Harry needed—someone who could understand him and raise him properly—even if it was not his godfather himself.

Sirius decided that he was not going to find Peter today and might as well see who his godson was going to live with.  He disapparated.

He appeared in the middle of a yard. Immediately, he hated the neighborhood.

Every house was the same, except for small details, such as color.  Near-identical cars waited each near-identical driveway in front of each near-identical house. The only light was the misty orange glow of the street lamps. Number four, the aunt and uncle's house, was just across the street from himself. It, of course, was like all of the others. He shuddered. How could Dumbledore send Harry _here?_

Sirius transformed into his Animagus form, that of the large black dog, crossed the street, and concealed himself in the shadows. Just in time, he realized, because there was barely a moment to spare before a man appeared at the end of the street. Sirius crept toward the corner, where a cat sat on the brickwork wall and watched the man.

The man, who was very obviously Albus Dumbledore, rummaged through his cloak. Finally, he pulled out something very like a silver cigarette lighter. He clicked it and the nearest street light went dark. He stowed the object in a pocket of his purple cloak and walked toward the cat, sitting next to it on the wall.

Without looking at it, he said, "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonogall."

Sirius jumped--he had not recognized his fellow Animagus. The cat morphed into the form of Professor McGonogall.

"How did you know it was me?"

Sirius crept closer. He could no longer see them, but he could hear them perfectly. He forgot any qualms about eavesdropping. He sensed that this would be an important conversation and he needed answers. Dumbledore was the only one who could give them.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day."

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Sirius fought down a wrathful growl. _Celebrating_?

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating all right. You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no--even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news. I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars…Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent--I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

_I missed something,_ Sirius realized. _Something_ big_ happened. He listened even more intently as Dumbledore spoke again._

"You can't blame them. We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," McGonogall said irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." A short pause. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really _has gone, Dumbledore?"_

Sirius's heart nearly stopped with his astonishment. You-Know-Who--_gone? No wonder he had been unable to find Peter! He would have gone back into hiding if he had any sense at all._

But still…he now understood the celebrations. The feasts. The most infamous wizard of his time--seemingly gone after eleven years of terror. He suddenly realized that Dumbledore was speaking again.

"…_Voldemort_." Sirius winced at the name. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't. But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know--oh, all right, _Voldemort, was frightened of."_

"You flatter me. Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too--well--_noble_ to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my earmuffs."

Sirius frowned. He began to doubt his earlier assumption. _This is pointless--_

There was another short pause before McGonogall spoke. "The owls are nothing next to the _rumors_ that are flying around You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?" Sirius's ears perked with interest. This was what he wanted to know. "What they're _saying_ is that Voldemort turned up at Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James are--are--that they're--_dead_." Sirius's jaw clenched as Dumbledore's shadow bowed its head.  McGonogall gasped. "Lily and James…I can't believe it…I didn't want to believe it…oh, Albus…"

Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "I know…I know…" he said heavily. 

McGonogall's voice wavered as she continued. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But--he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke--and that's why he's gone." Dumbledore must have given some sort of silent affirmation, for McGonogall said, "It's--it's _true_? After all he's done…after all the people he's killed…he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

Sirius was wondering much the same thing.

I know. I didn't write a whole lot of this myself. But this is an important bit of the story, so I felt the need to put this conversation in here. The next chapter will be similar, then it becomes more and more AU. Please R/R.

Silberner


	4. Chapter 3: Antworten

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Inconnu  


by Silberner Wolf

Hi! Sorry it took so long! I'll try to keep them coming…one a week maybe? And thank you to **Jenny** and **Potter-Freak123** for their reviews.

-Silberner

Disclaimer: I can dream, can't I? Dialogue borrowed from HPSS.

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Part 1: Ein Neuer Anfang

Chapter 3: Antworten

"We can only guess. We may never know." A pause. "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

Sirius smiled to himself. Hagrid was never the best at keeping things to himself.

"Yes. And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you're here, of all places?"

"I'm here to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now." 

"You don't mean–you _can't_ mean the people that live _here_? Dumbledore–you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people less like us. And they've got this son–I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

  
Sirius shared her sentiment–he was liking these people less and less.

"It's the best place for him. His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

Sirius had to fight hard not to snort indignantly. The best place for him? The best place for him was with a family of wizards!

"A letter? Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous–a legend–I wouldn't be surprised if today were known as Harry Potter day in the future–there will be books written about Harry–every child in our world will know his name!"

Sirius nodded to himself.

"Exactly. It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from that until he's old enough to take it?"

Sirius began to understand Dumbledore's reasoning, though he was still angry. "Yes–yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?"

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it–_wise_–to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

Sirius smirked as he imagined the thoughts running through McGonagall's head.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life."

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place, but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to–what was that?"

Sirius noticed the familiar rumble of his motorcycle in the distance, drawing nearer. It crescendoed to a roar and there was a thud as Hagrid touched down on the street, still out of Sirius's line of sight.

"Hagrid. At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

Sirius grinned. "Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir. Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir–house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarming around." The concealment charms would, of course, have begun to wear off after the house was destroyed. "He fell asleep as we was flying over Bristol."

"Is that where–" came McGonagall's voice. Sirius moved enough to see the three of them gathered together, but he could not see Harry.

"Yes. He'll have that scar forever," Dumbledore said.

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well–give him here, Hagrid–we'd better get this over with."

Hagrid surrendered the bundle that was Harry to Dumbledore, who turned toward number four.

"Could I–could I say goodbye to him, sir?" Dumbledore nodded. Hagrid bent over Harry, stood straight for a moment, then howled like a wounded animal.

"Shhh!" McGonagall hissed. "You'll wake the Muggles."

"S-s-sorry. But I c-c-can't stand it–Lily an' James dead–an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles–"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found." McGonagall patted Hagrid gingerly on the back as Dumbledore crossed the front lawn of number four and carefully laid Harry on the front doorstep. He pulled something from his cloak and tucked it into the blankets. He then returned to the other two. They stood for a while, watching Harry.

"Well, that's that. We have no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah. I'll be taking Sirius his bike back. Goodnight, Professor McGonagall–Professor Dumbledore, sir." Hagrid mounted the motorcycle and disappeared into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall blew her nose, then became the cat and faded into the shadows. Dumbledore walked back to the street corner. He pulled out the silver object again and clicked it once. All of the street lamps blazed to life, nearly blinding Sirius. "Good luck, Harry Potter," Sirius heard him murmur before he, too, disappeared.

Thank you for reading! As always, please review! The next chapter should be very soon!

-Silberner


	5. Chapter 4: The Muggles

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Inconnu

by Silberner Wolf

This is the final chapter of Part 1. The interlude should be up soon.

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Ein Neuer Anfang is "A New Beginning" in German. _Antworten_ means "Answers." (German as well) _Inconnu_ means "Unknown" in French. I enjoy languages.

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Jenny: [grumbles about friends who demand to read the chapters before they are posted] 

-Silberner

Disclaimer: I can dream, can't I? 

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Chapter 4: The Muggles

When he was sure they were gone, Sirius left the shadows and approached the bundle on the doorstep. Harry was still asleep, and in his hand was an envelope. Sirius sighed. McGonagall was right. You could never really explain something like this in a letter.

He sat beside the boy and watched him for a while. He worried about his godson. What life lay ahead of him.

He heard activity in the house and decided that it may be in his best interest to hide himself for now.

About half an hour later, the door opened.

Sirius buried his head in the grass and attempted to block his ears with his forepaws. That woman could scream!

"_Vernon_!" she screeched.

There was a grunt from inside, then pounding footsteps came to the door.

The woman showed the baby to her husband. His eyes widened and he spat out the gulp of juice he had just taken.

"Wh-what is that?" he sputtered.

"I think that's obvious," the woman muttered under her breath, so her husband couldn't hear her. She pulled the letter from the blanket. She opened it and began to read, becoming increasingly pale as she did so. Vernon, of course, failed to notice.

"I mean, _whose_ is it?" he corrected himself. 

Sirius seethed. "It?" What was all of this "it" business? 

When the woman finished reading, she stared at the bottom of the parchment, a distant look in her eyes. She mouthed something, glanced at Harry, and reread it. Vernon finally noticed that something was wrong. "What–what is it, Petunia?"

"My sister and her husband–they're dead–"

"And?" Vernon said, seeing nothing to be upset about. 

"This is their son." Vernon dropped his cup, which shattered on the ground. Sirius could see Muggles peering curiously through their curtains, wondering what the racket was. Petunia turned and pushed her husband inside, shutting the door and forgetting the soggy newspaper on the step.

Sirius went around to the back of the house and sat under a window to the kitchen that was open.

"...Freaks! We are _not_ keeping that little brat!" Vernon was saying. It was lucky they had forgotten about the open window–for Sirius, at least.

"He stays," Petunia said. There was a long pause in which there was almost total silence. Sirius looked over the window sill and saw Vernon staring at his wife in disbelief.

"P-petunia..." he pleaded.

"He stays," she said, finality in her voice. Vernon sighed in defeat.

"Where will he sleep?"

"In the extra room, by Dudley's."

"Are you _mad_? Leaving him near our son? Alone?"

Petunia rolled her eyes. "He's a baby, Vernon. He can't do any of that. Yet."

Vernon sighed again. "All right, then. I'll get Dudley's old crib." He stormed upstairs and could be heard rummaging through the things in the hall closet.

Sirius frowned. Dumbledore had to be insane. This was not, by any stretch of the imagination, the best place for his godson.

He watched Petunia and Harry for a few minutes longer. Only when the other child began to throw a tantrum did he look away.

He glanced upward at the sun and realized that it was midmorning. 

With a sigh, he turned from the window and hurried down the street. When safely out of sight of any Muggle, he returned to human form.

Another day of Peter Hunting.

@~`~,~

Sirius walked down the street, studying everything that stirred. He was unsure of how long he had been searching when he heard a voice behind him.

"Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?" it cried loudly.

Sirius whipped around. "You," he growled. He did not reach for his wand–Peter Pettigrew had managed to corner him. Muggles began to gather around at the sound of Peter's voice.

"How _could_ you, Sirius?" Peter howled.

"What are you on about?" Sirius growled.

"You were so kind," whispered Peter, quietly enough that Sirius was the only one to hear him, "not to tell anyone that the Potters had switched Secret-Keepers." Sirius paled. Peter grinned wickedly. "Goodbye, Sirius."

Sirius's hand flew toward his wand, but Peter beat him to it. With a final smirk, Peter blew up the street behind him and disappeared into the sewer as a rat.

All Sirius could do was stare. Muggles were screaming and he could see that several were dead. Ministry wizards apparated everywhere and began to try to clean up the damage. Several of them noticed him and began to walk toward him.

He found himself laughing. He could not stop himself. Peter had beaten him. The Ministry wizards had caught him with his wand drawn in the middle of a street that had just exploded, screaming Muggles were all around, several bodies were scattered around the scene, and then there was the finger Peter had sliced off of his hand before he transformed, as well as the fact that the Potters were dead and he was supposedly their Secret-Keeper. That little rat.

@~`~,~

Less than a day later, Sirius found himself in Azkaban prison, charged with Peter's crimes, as well as being a Death Eater, and without even a trial. 

Please review!

-Silberner


	6. Interlude: The Funeral

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Inconnu

by Silberner Wolf

Sorry about the long wait! This has been sitting on my computer, waiting for when I had a chance to upload. 

Enjoy. (though, personally, I think it deserves burning….) 

-**Silberner**

Thank you **lajoie56** and **Jenny** for the reviews.

Disclaimer: I can dream, can't I? 

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Interlude: The Funeral

There were many people at the Potters' funeral. Very few of them had actually_ known_ the Potters, but now Lily and James were famous because of their son–the Boy Who Lived.

A thick, freezing fog swirled around the crowd and the occasional raindrop splashed on the head of a witch or wizard, who did their best to ignore it.

The service was conducted by a Muggle pastor who, rumor had it, knew very well that he was not among other Muggles, despite the fact that Dumbledore had made it extremely clear that no one was to use magic. What little magic was used was kept well concealed–more out of fear that Dumbledore would find out than any Muggle.

A pair of caskets were suspended side-by-side above two graves, both of them closed against the weather. Both were made of a fine wood that had a glossy and reddish finish and gleaming silver trim.

Dumbledore stood toward the front with McGonagall and the towering figure of Hagrid. 

Remus Lupin stood alone off to the side. He seemed to be in shock. No one could blame him. He had been awoken early that morning and told that Lily and James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and nearly a dozen unnamed Muggles had died by the hand of Sirius Black, who was a Death Eater and was now in Azkaban. The unexpected news had hit him very hard.

At the edge of the crowd, someone that no one had expected to see there, no matter how famous the Potters were, prowled, black eyes flashing. Some just assumed that he was there because of Dumbledore, but no one dared to ask. In fact, most of them shied away from the greasy-haired man. They all knew very well that Severus Snape was never in a mood to chat.

The Minister of Magic was very near the caskets, as were the members of law enforcement that had apprehended Black, including the young Cornelius Fudge.

A few yards away was another cluster of professors from the nearby wizarding school, Hogwarts, where Dumbledore was headmaster. One of them, Professor Sprout, gave a small squeak as a large gray rat darted past her, gaining her a few glares. The rat, which looked very much like Peter Pettigrew, continued to the edge of the wood where it stopped to take one last look before disappearing into the shadows between the towering trees.

The service ended shortly thereafter, right before it truly began to rain, then pour, and, finally, come down in torrential sheets.

Witches and wizards departed quickly until only a few remained–Hagrid, the pastor, Lupin, Dumbledore, and the other professors–including, surprisingly, Snape. All of them stared for a moment at the two fresh mounds of earth, expressions ranging from relief that they were no longer crowded and could see the graves to mournfulness to slightly bewildered, before seeking shelter in a nearby building.

A few of the women cried quietly and most of the men had fallen into a moody silence. Snape continued to lurk around the edges of the group, face expressionless and eyes unreadable. 

And that, my friends, was the end of part 1. Part 2 coming soon. Hopefully it starts to get a bit more interesting. Please review.

-Silberner


	7. Chapter 5: Freedom

Inconnu

By SilbernerWolf  
  
  
  
  


Part 2: Redeemed

Chapter 5: Freedom  


  
  
  
  


Sorry it took a while. I had it ready to post and I realized how much it stunk, so I completely rewrote it. Hope it was worth it. :)

~Silberner  


  
  
  
  


Disclaimer: I wish...  
  
  
  
  


Ten years. Ten excruciatingly long years. So long since he had seen sunlight or felt its warmth; so long since he had felt refreshing rain against his skin. So long since he had indulged in such a simple pleasure as just lying in the grass, soaking in the sun--or any pleasure at all, for that matter.  
  
  
  


Leaving that dementor infested pit was like being born again. It did not matter that he was homeless or without a wand, just that he was free and able to remember a life before that-a happy life. He could remember his friends, his days at Hogwarts, everything. It all came rushing back as soon as the boat left the shore. There was more, so much more...  
  
  
  


And now he was back-back in the world of the Living.  
  
  
  


Perhaps his memory failed him-it had been ten years-but the sea was bluer, the sun was brighter, and the birds' songs were more beautiful than he remembered.  
  
  
  


The sky above was beginning to darken-a coming storm. In the distance, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. They reached the shore and he was free, simple as that. His wand had been snapped upon his arrest and imprisonment, they said, so he would need to get another. His motorcycle had been done away with and his home sold.  
  
  
  


There was no apology. There was no compensation. There was no explanation. He was simply put on the street to fend for himself while the Ministry concentrated on more important things-such as the trial of Peter Pettigrew.  
  
  
  


The story that one of the officials had related to the other on their way to the mainland was rather simple. Peter had somehow run into Dumbledore himself. Not much else was known, except for the fact that there was a high likelihood of a life sentence.  
  
  
  


Well, first things first. The closest magical establishments were Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, so he would make his way there first-maybe he could use the fireplace at the Three Broomsticks. He set off toward the general southwest. Perhaps he would be able to find a place to stay before nightfall.  
  
  
  


@~`~,~  
  
  
  


On the evening of the third day he had been traveling Hogsmeade finally came in to sight.  
  
  
  


He had discovered that it was much easier to travel as the dog, so he had transformed for most of the journey. He quickly transformed and made his way to the village.  
  
  
  


Upon reaching the edge of Hogsmeade, he pulled up the hood of his cloak and went straight to the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta allowed him to use the fireplace. "Diagon Alley!" he said.  
  
  
  


He tumbled roughly from a fireplace, the wrong one. He found himself in the Leaky Cauldron. Cursing the floo network, he stormed out the back door and waited impatiently for the gateway to Diagon Alley to open, as he could not open it due to the unfortunate lack of a wand.  
  
  
  


Finally, a group of chattering witches carrying an impossibly large number of bags trooped through the archway and in to the Leaky Cauldron, and he managed to slip through before the gateway closed. He went straight to Gringotts, leaving two wild cart rides later with a small bag of money that would buy the things he needed in Diagon Alley and leave enough to buy several meals and pay for a place to stay, as long as it was cheap.  
  
  
  


Next, he went to Ollivander's and purchased a wand. He left as quickly as he could, however, because he did not enjoy the lecture on letting such a fine wand as he had owned be destroyed, which had begun the moment he walked in.  
  
  
  


Not long after, he arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron, laden with bags containing new robes and other necessities. He ate an exceptionally large meal and payed for a room for the night. He would decide what was next in the morning, when he was not so tired.  
  
  
  


He accepted the key and went up to his room, number seven, and tossed his bags carelessly to the side, barely missing the large mirror. The mirror grumbled at him in a raspy voice. He fell onto the bed, fully clothed, and fell instantly into a dreamless sleep.  
  
  
  


@~`~,~  
  
  
  


The next morning a persistent clicking sound invaded his sleep. He sat up and glanced around the room before locating the source-a multitude of owls were gazing through the window, all bearing letters and pecking at the panes of glass. He opened the window and took the letter from each of the owls, shooing each of them off as he did so. After closing the window behind the last one, he turned to the mountain of letters laying on the table. He picked up a random one and opened it. A request for an interview. He opened the next.  
  
  
  


And the next.  
  
  
  


And the next.  
  
  
  


And the next.  
  
  
  


All of them were the same.  
  
  
  


"And to think that I would have enjoyed this at one time," he muttered to himself. as he swept them from the table and into the nearby trash can, which made a loud chewing noise and belched. He was about to try to lie down again and catch some more sleep before he left the Leaky Cauldron for his next destination (wherever that was) when more owls appeared and began attacking his window.  
  
  
  


Groaning tiredly, he pulled the shade down. Undeterred, the pecking continued. "Silencio," he muttered, pointing his wand toward the window. The pecking fell silent and he flung himself upon the bed. Sleep came easily.  
  
  
  


@~`~,~  
  
  
  


He awoke again around lunchtime, feeling much more rested. Yawning and stretching, he changed clothes and gathered his things. He left the room without raising the shade-he was quite sure of what he would find.  
  
  
  


Downstairs, he payed for the room and a quick lunch. Ths was a mistake, as he quickly realized about half way through his meal. Staying in one place for longer than a few moments was not a good idea.  
  
  
  


Reporters and photographers swarmed into the small pub and around him as he ate, or, more accurately, tried to eat. Finally, he had enough. He scooped up his things and swept from the building, thinking, The news stories must have really dried up-why else would they be plaguing me like this?  
  
  
  


He made his way to an underground station and slipped onto the train. At every stop, he switched. When he came to the end of the line, he began to walk, hoping that they would not be able to track him if he kept going. He did not know where his feet were taking him, just that it was away from London and the reporters.  
  
  
  


@~`~,~  
  
  
  


It was well into the night and extremely dark. It had been hours since a reporter had ambushed him (perhaps because the last one had been hexed so badly that he was barely recognizable?).  
  
  
  


He suddenly found himself standing at a very familiar corner and looking down an extremely familiar street. Privet Drive.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


@~`~,~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Please R/R!


End file.
